


Spider Lilies in the Talons Hold

by WillowBlackthorn



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Divergance, F/M, I Blame Tumblr, I promise, M/M, McHanzo is the main and end goal, Multi, Probably a bit of OCCness., Red Roomed Widowmaker, Redemption will be had. I promise., Talon!Hanzo, Talon!McCree, Young Hanzo Shimada, Young Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-14 23:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8034052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowBlackthorn/pseuds/WillowBlackthorn
Summary: I suck at summaries.





	Spider Lilies in the Talons Hold

**Author's Note:**

> I blame tumblr for this idea. Tumblr and my apparent very over active imagination. Also I don't speak french. Please tell me if it's wrong. I don't know how reliable google translate is.

The gunslinger scowled.  
  
He absolutely _hated_ this part of the job. He, Jesse McCree, did not join _Talon_ , just to play babysitter. If he wanted to do that, he would have stayed with the Deadlock Gang, or done something stupid like join _Overwatch_.

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth as his stomach did a flip.

Gloved fingers skitted over the collars of his jacket before coming to a stop, crossing over one another just under his collar bone. Soon enough, the weight of arms resting against his shoulders joined in. Jesse could just make out the wording of a tattoo out of his peripheral vision, when a cool voice spoke in his ear.

“Essayez de ne pas les briser ce temps, mon cher.” (Try not to break them this time, my dear)

Amélie. _Widowmaker_. Once again, he was trapped in the spider’s web. Red eyes ghosted to the side. ...He didn’t mind the spider so much.

“Il est pas ma faute , ils sont si facilement brisés, chérie.” (It is not my fault they are so easily broken, darling)

Jesse’s reply earned him a mild scowl and the corners of his lips twitched upwards. Amélie always hated it when he spoke in her native tongue. She claimed she hated the way his accent mared the words. Perhaps she was right.

“I still don’t understand why _we_ have to deal with them.” Jesse drawled, foregoing the other’s language all together. “There are plenty of other people more suited for the role of babysitter. Why waste our time?” Widowmaker simply rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue, causing Jesse to scowl.

 “You wanted a pet. Here is your chance.” The corners of Jesse’s scowl twitched upwards. “And here I thought you were my pet Darlin…” He chimed as Widowmaker hissed, shoving him away. The outlaw grinned, grabbing the brim of his hat as he looked her up and down. “Gotta say… Never really understood why they were so popular before…” Jesse’s gaze lingered a moment longer then it should have, at several points along the sniper’s body. “But I can definitely see the attraction to it now.”

 “I do not know why I do not just kill you.” Widowmaker lemented with a sigh. “I can think of a reason.” Jesse teased, closing the distance between them. Slinking back to her like a cat after its prey. “Enlighten me, Mon ami.” The sniper said, allowing the sharpshooter to crowd her behind a large stack of supply crates, away from prying eyes.  
  
“It’s a real good reason.” Jesse says, hands finding their way to her hips, pulling them forward against his. “It’s a bit _long_ though.” He says, leaning down to brush their lips together. The sniper sighs against him, hooking a leg over his hip. “ _Hard_ to explain.” A snort. Another kiss, this time harder. One of his hands hooks under her thigh, lifting her up and supporting her weight as he rolls his hips against her. “But you know me… _Thick_ headed.” A hiss, and a still harder kiss. A hand on his chest, and one on hers. Grabbing, kneading, clawing. “Hits all the right _spots_ thought.” Her hand was his hair now, tugging, and Jesse chuckled as he pressed her against the crates. Widowmaker’s other leg soon joined the one wrapped around his waist as she scaled him, rolling her hips to meet his. Shoving the collar of her uniform out of the way, Jesse latched on to the woman’s neck. Licking, sucking, bruising, biting. Jesse’s rhythm faltered momentarily when she pulled at his hair, demanding as always. The sharpshooter responded kind, picking up his pace both with his hips and his hand. “Motherfucker.” He hissed, biting at the juncture of her throat and collar. She laughed at him. He growled.

Widowmaker was just toying with him. He knew that. They _both_ knew that.

Neither seemed to mind.

Jesse was about to toy with _her_ when the sound of a hover jet caused the pair to freeze. Jesse snarled, where Widowmaker wasted no time in detangling herself from the gunslinger. “Fucking _hell_!” He hissed loudly. “I’ll fucking kill them all. Fucking pricks..” The gunslinger growled, his body running on endorphins and hormones.

“You will do no such thing, Chéri.” Widowmaker replied, using his trademark pet name against him. Of course she would look as if they weren’t just in the middle of something. She was pristine, unblemished. Talon’s perfect little doll.

Jesse could remember _quite_ a few exquisite marks he’d left on her in _excruciating_ detail that would prove that theory wrong.

“Come now…” She said, tilting his chin down. “Let us deal with this… babysitting, as you see fit to call it.” Her lips ghosted over his, just a whisper of a touch. A silent command to breathe. To gather himself. “Perhaps I will make it up to you later. If you are good.” Jesse’s snarl turned into a quiet rumble, he tried to chase those lips to no avail as her fingers disappeared  out from under his chin. She then left him to his own devices, disappearing around the corner of the very crates they used to hid themselves.

Jesse scowled, taking a few moments to reign himself under control before he was stalking after her. The pair watched as the craft landed, it’s loading bay door opening. Two operatives stepped out first, followed by some of the most unfortunate looking recruits Jesse had ever had the misfortune of laying his eyes upon. One of the operatives, Schirmer, as Jesse recalls, hands him a clipboard of all things. The gunslinger tunes him out as he starts talking things over with Widowmaker. His eyes glance over the list and Jesse visibly grimaced over the disappointing lack of ‘trainees’. Ten. Five women, five men. What really makes his stomach turn is he know that the list will be cut down half that almost instantly. Women never lasted long here… Amélie was one thing. She had been crafted by this darkness… but these women?  
  
A fate worse than death.

But there was nothing he could do about that. There was no saving them. He was about to pass off the clipboard to let Widowmaker take her pick when the last name on the roster caught his attention. He blinked. That couldn’t be right. “Schirmer.” He said, startling the grunt out of his conversation. “Where did we pick up this one?” Jesse asked, pointing at the name on the clipboard. It took the man a moment, trying to recall the details.

“Turns out family _isn’t_ everything.” Schirmer replied. “His family would rather trade him off then pay off the tab for the tech. Don’t see why the higher ups agreed. There’s nothing to this guy. Sat there in silence the whole time.” Jesse grinned. “I want him.” He said, now completely ignoring Schirmer as he passed the clipboard off to Widowmaker. The sniper paused, and for a moment, Jesse found himself wondering if maybe she was jealous she hadn’t gotten to him first. A sigh was all he got as far as an answer. “Fine. Take your pet Chéri. There is work to be done.”

Jesse grinned turning to the new recruits. Maybe this babysitting job wasn’t going to be so bogus after all.

“Alright now… Which one of you ingrates is Hanzo Shimada.”


End file.
